


Endless

by railise



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-11
Updated: 2011-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-15 13:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/railise/pseuds/railise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana has kidnapped Gwen, and Arthur needs to find her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endless

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round 3 of the Arthur/Gwen Last Author Standing at [4_evermore](http://community.livejournal.com/4_evermore), at LiveJournal; theme: "back in your arms"; prompt: [this painting](http://neptune47.deviantart.com/art/Merlin-The-Return-154788885) by neptune47 at LiveJournal/Deviantart.

The hunt for Morgana had seemed endless.

Arthur had spent a year in searching for her. Each morning of that year had been progressively harder to face; each night ended more dishearteningly than the one before. It felt like he was eroding inside, every failed day wearing away at him, until he wondered if there would be anything left once the search was ended. _If_ it ever ended.

And yet, Guinevere had restored him. Not completely-- his father's obsession and his own concern were too corrosive for that-- but when he was near Camelot and thus able to see her, to hold her, he found enough peace for some of what was crumbling within him to fortify itself. She was often the one to end up holding him on the particularly bad days... and there had been plenty of those. It did not matter who was holding whom, though; simply that contact, that pure compassion-- her love-- kept him going.

Now, he had nothing. Guinevere was gone, taken by the woman she had given him the strength to find, and he could feel that erosion again. It was faster this time, too, so very much faster; and sharper, sending shards of physical pain through him when he let himself think on it. She had been gone just over two weeks, and the only reason he did not fear that he would be worn away to nothing before he could find her was that he was determined. He would find her, and if Morgana had harmed her in the slightest-- if she had even made Gwen _cry_ \-- no amount of sorcery would save her.

Then, he would shut himself and Guinevere away for as long as it took to restore them both, for he had no doubt that she would need that comfort, too.

Arthur only hoped that he could provide it for her.

* * * * *

The cellar in which Gwen was being kept was dark, dank, and smelled of moldy wood and wet animal fur. Morgana had stolen her from her bed, and her nightdress was too thin to be much protection against the chilly air. So, she was huddled on the cleanest section of floor she was able to find, knees drawn up beneath the skirt of her nightdress, and an old curtain which she had found wedged in a crate wrapped around her shoulders. Knowing that a woman she had once considered a trusted friend, in whom she had confided things she told no one else, was keeping her like this made the situation that much more unbearable.

The worst part was that she was a pawn. Morgana was willing to use her, but it was only to strike out at Arthur, to make him suffer for what their father had done. He had no part in Uther's denial of his daughter. He had possessed no more knowledge of Morgana's identity than she, herself had, and yet she wanted to hurt him-- before she killed him.

Gwen's heart ached at the whole thing. Morgana had been betrayed by her father, which Gwen found unfathomable; Tom had been her rock, the one person she could depend upon for anything... that was, until Uther took him from her. Merlin was always there when she needed him, and Gaius, but there was not much that either of them could do other than listen. In a dire emergency, she might be able to speak with Sir Leon, but not if it conflicted with his loyalty to the king. Until recently, things had been too complicated for her to completely depend upon Arthur. She thought she could put her faith in Morgana, but now her former mistress was betraying them all.

Betrayal upon betrayal, hurt upon hurt, and for what? Fear, and power. Uther was the genesis of all of it, and now his children were caught in his quagmire. Gwen doubted Morgana even truly cared about ruling Camelot; it was about defeating the king and the son he had named heir. A son who had never been anything but good to her, a half-brother who had nearly killed himself trying to rescue her.

Arthur was what Camelot needed. While Morgana was playing the same wicked games Uther had begun, Arthur was trying to rise above them. It was not easy, but Gwen knew he could succeed, if only his family would allow it.

Over that year he was searching for Morgana, Gwen had often feared for Arthur. She always would, when he was fighting, but it was more than that. There was a hollowness in him that had grown every time he returned, and while he always seemed better after being home for a time, it never completely left him. Each time she stepped into his arms and was able to put her own around him, the relief she felt had been indescribable.

Resting her cheek on her knees, she pulled the curtain a little tighter around her shoulders and shut her eyes, trying to picture herself in his arms. That took some imagination; Arthur was warm and comforting and nearly always smelled lovely (unless he had been in his armor for too long, but a bath soon remedied that). He was the antithesis of everything that surrounded her, and thinking of him was what was keeping her sane. Memories were part of that, but dreams of the future were even moreso. She never thought they would be able to be together, and had finally allowed herself to start hoping, only to be forcibly taken from him. Again. But, they had overcome other obstacles, and surely would find a way out of this.

As Gwen finished that thought, there was a loud booming noise, the earth shook, and the walls around her tumbled in.

* * * * *

The small party drew up in horror. They had finally traced Morgana to a minor castle near the border, and arrived only in time to see it under attack by the bordering kingdom, and badly damaged in the process. Warriors swarmed all around the scene, far too many for the group from Camelot to take on. Flames licked the roofs of a pair of towers, one toppled and one still standing. Occasionally, a bright flash of colored light would precede some men being blown back, or hit with fallen stones; clearly, Morgana was not a passive participant in the fight.

A wave of panic swept through Arthur as he surveyed the scene. According to the reports they had gathered, Guinevere was in there, and for the first time in his life, he found himself hoping the reports were mistaken. No one was speaking; they all saw the odds, and were awaiting his command. In a larger unit, Arthur would have expected at least some of the men to be in favor of abandoning the rescue attempt. However, he knew that every member of this group was focused on that goal, which was good; they needed an advantage, and unity of purpose was apparently the only one they had.

He was desperately looking for at least the semblance of a true tactical advantage, when something caught his eye. In a damaged part of the castle-- a flash of purple--

" _There!_ " he pointed. "She's there!" A terrified relief swept through him; just because he had located her did not mean they could necessarily reach her. He still saw no good way in, so he turned to the knights. They were all watching him with nearly identical expressions; this could be a suicide mission, and they all knew it. He did not even have to ask; he nodded, they nodded back, and they were almost set.

"Merlin, stay here. If--"

"No." The smile Arthur's manservant gave him was far too mature to pass off as idiocy this time. "Gwen has been there for me many times, and I'm not going to sit here and let you lot save her without me."

His semi-flippant words belied the real sentiment behind them, yet Arthur understood. It was a terrible idea, but they were all as good as dead, anyway. And that sort of loyalty, especially for Guinevere, was not something Arthur would deny. "All right. We go straight in, we get Guinevere, we come out again." _I hope._ Once they were all ready, he yelled, "GO!" and in they charged.

The next several minutes were a flurry of steel against steel, fists, shields, dirt and blood, and the stench of battle. Some blows aimed at Arthur naturally connected, mainly caught by his mail, but not all. Strangely, it seemed that Morgana's attacks were aiding his knights, which could absolutely not be on purpose. She would not be tossing men out of their path, or hurtling debris at their foes. However, Arthur was not about to question her aim as long as it was working in his favor, and he barreled through the battle and to the crumbling section of castle.

* * * * *

It had taken Gwen awhile to dig her way out of the fallen cellar; fortunately, part of the ceiling had collapsed over her at an angle, protecting her from the worst of the collapse so that she had been spared anything worse than a few bruises and scrapes. She could hear the sounds of battle, muted by the stones and wood, growing louder as she got closer to the surface. And then, emerging into the middle of it, she wondered why she had been so desperate to get out of her relatively safe cocoon.

That was when she spotted Arthur. She did not even know how she managed to pick him out in the sea of men, but there he was, Merlin behind him, and Leon, Elyan, Lancelot, Gwaine, and Percival in a row behind Merlin. All of them fighting, working their way toward her.

Not about to stand around and wait for them to reach her, Gwen picked up the sturdiest piece of wood she could find. It would serve well enough to disarm one of the enemy and take up his weapon. Gripping it securely, she started to move forward, but a pile of bricks gave way beneath her feet, and she was suddenly falling. She managed to grab onto a piece of staircase that was sticking out of the wall and catch herself, but pulling herself up became a serious problem, as every time she set her foot down, more loose detritus slid under her.

Finally, she was able to find a foothold, and between that and the stair, got herself to a standing position on top of the rubble--

\--just in time for Arthur to reach her.

For a moment, she simply stared at him, her heart still pounding from the effort of not falling back into what was left of the cellar. Then, the working of her heart shifted from physical reaction to pure joy. With a sob, Gwen flew at Arthur, and he grabbed her up; and for a moment, the battle seemed miles away. Even the voices of their friends, calling to one another as they all broke through the fray, were only a distant realization.

* * * * *

Arthur had no idea what was going on behind him. At one point, he caught a glimpse of Guinevere fully standing on top of a collapsed portion of the castle, a wooden plank in hand. But, when he glanced over again a minute later, she was gone; and a cold chill washed over him as he wondered if an archer or Morgana's magic was the cause.

She could not be dead, not when he was this close. What if she was injured? What if a delay in help reaching her marked her fate? Determined not to let that be the case, he hurtled forward, slicing his way through his remaining adversaries more quickly than he had ever before managed.

Clearing the field of battle, he started to run up the fallen walls toward where he had last seen Guinevere, but was slowed when the stones gave way below him. Cursing under his breath, he noticed a part of the wall which was still standing, and used that as an initial step. There was another within leaping distance, and he desperately hoped it would hold as he landed on it; fortunately, it did. Thus using various chunks of stone as a tenuous staircase, Arthur made his way to the top.

As he reached it, Guinevere rose in front of him, apparently having just completed a similar climb. His eyes raked over her for any sign of injury: an arrow, a wound, a burn, and was both amazed and assuaged to see nothing more than dirt and scrapes. She suddenly flew at him, and he never knew such relief was possible as that which he felt when he swept her up into his arms.

Holding her as close as he could without his armor hurting her, Arthur was instantly whole again. The part of him which had been crumbling like the castle upon which they stood was restored; and moreover, he felt at peace. That should have been a brief sensation-- they still had to fight their way out of here and make the journey back to Camelot, after all-- but it remained, even as he led them all through the battle.

He had Guinevere back, and anything was manageable when she was with him. As long as he could hold her, his happiness would be as endless as the sky.


End file.
